Blessed are you, Source of the Universe
Who wanders in exile.
Blessed are you alone and afraid.
Blessed are you in every sparrow, coyote,
slaughtered pig and chicken.
Blessed are you despised and rejected,
accused of your impotence.
Blessed are you, cursed of the Universe
Who shows us the way.
Broken Ground of Being,
Blessed are you.


Nineteen shot and still
they come.  Thirty-five
carried across the river–

no noticeable difference
in number.

More than an angel
could count.

Tender seedlings ripped
and tossed aside.
Tell me again

about the oneness
of all beings,
about angels

who hover over
every living thing,

But don’t forget:
even devils
may appear benign.

Note:  I did not shoot or transport them.  Two neighbors did that with the ones in their gardens.  I know better.

May 2012


Woke in a drizzly haze
and saw his futile twinkle
on the screen by the bed:
Here I am, here I am, here I am,
blinking green-yellow long after
his star-kin had crawled under leaves.
I got up, caught him in my hands.
Walking to the door with the light
flashing between my fingers,
I was the old woman in an older tale,
holding the fairyking tight:
I will not let you go till you show me 
the gold, build me the castle, open for me 
the door to eternal joy.
But I let him go without conditions
and alone he flew pleading
above the long wet grass.

Published in The Kept Writer, Oct., 2002


I wrote this in 1957, when I was eight.  My mother included it in a letter to a friend.  Her comment:  “Mary handed it to me and said, ‘Here’s a corny poem I wrote!'”  The spelling is as it was. 


A bird does fly
up in the sky.
The sun does shine
Like a diamond ring.

What sings a song
Like a bird in the sky?
Why do the flowers
Never die?

The song of the bird
Is the sweetest by far.
The sky is bluer
Then the bluest car.

The wonders of Nator never fail.
The clouds are whiter
Than a wedding gown veil.


“Man, despite his artistic pretensions, his sophistication and his many accomplishments, 
owes his existence to a six-inch layer of topsoil  and the fact that it rains.” 
~Author Unknown

Can you make a planet?
Stars so light till death,
the explosion of metal,

Oxygen is breath.
Can you make it?
Transform decay into

Beneath your feet
the soil, weathered
stone, the humus,

and grasses.
There are flowers,
can you make them?

Can you make fish?
Twist lizards into birds,
hoofed mammals into


can you let them
be?  Can you keep,
O you who cannot

Fingers, opposable
thumbs.   Larynx.
Can you make a
single eye,

womb, ear, spleen?
Make a mind.
Be still, and make
a heart.


1.  The Fisherman and his Wife

The way you can walk is fantasy.
The name you can speak is make-believe.

Whatever makes you think
you can know what’s real?

To find it, you must have no wishes,
but every one knows
that wishing makes dreams come true.

The Fisherman’s Wife wanted to be God,
and even what she was was taken away.

The magical fish still waits
in the deepest trench of the sea.

2.  Snow White:  The Wicked Queen

Wishing to be fairest, she made ugliness,
for beauty, she made poison.

Without ugliness, no beauty,
without violence, nothing gentle.
Without the dwarves, no one is tall.
Without the Queen, there is no tale.

There was nothing she could do but refuse,
and refusing, she came to nothing.

5. The Sweet Porridge

Heaven and Earth don’t care about you.
They act like a pot filling the world with porridge.
Even if you can make it stop,
you’ll never eat your way through.

8. Godfather Death

Death is like water:
treating all alike,
settling in the lowest places.

To resist is useless:
every candle comes to its end.

In the end all stone is sand,
all sand is stone.


Art the Accidental Apostrophe.

Beauty the Broken Being.

Creation the Crisis
Defining the Death,
Elegizing the Entropy.

Fantastic the Fear.
Gentle the Grief.
Hidden the Hunger,
Ignorant the Instance.

Juxtapose the Joyous.
Kiss the Killer.
Love the Listener.

Music the Monstrous Miracle.

Never the Needful,
Only the Occasional.

Portion the Present,
Question the Querulous,
Restore the Ridiculous,
Syncopate the Synchronous!

Terrible the Telling
Under the Umbrella.

Verify the Verse:
Wish the Words,
Exercise the Excellent.

Yesterday You Yelled Yes!
but later,
there will be
nothing but Z.